The Plot of the Muses
by Thalion Estel
Summary: Poor Thalion Estel; not a day goes by without her studies being interrupted by her muses. However, in this instance, her muse visitor doesn't seem to have a story in mind...but just how much trust can you place in one of the Noldor? A one shot.


**Author's Note: This is just a short story, kinda out-of-the-blue. It was a silly daydream I concocted while doing some homework a few weeks ago, and that same act of daydreaming did lead me to begin another story that I will be posting soon. I hope you enjoy; please review!**

 **. . .**

Thalion Estel, her physical appearance even less cared for than usual, sat slumped in a chair, her drooping eyelids threatening to hinder her reading. No one should have to read 130 pages in one day, not to mention do assignments on the reading. It wasn't like the margins were wide or the font was big; the books she was forced to toil through were typical intellectual books with tiny lettering and huge pages. The sentences on the book blurred, and Estel blinked several times to clear her vision.

She was a good student, really she was. She got good grades and genuinely enjoyed her studying, especially this semester's work. It was an immense privilege and joy for her to be at this college, learning under such amazing professors.

But you can have too much of a good thing.

Estel gave a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She once again realized that her mind hadn't been following the words she had just read. Reluctantly, she retreated several paragraphs and reread half the page, trying desperately to retain the information about the underlying theological meanings of Old Testament cosmology. If only she could focus her mind on the subject—read through it like a novel or something. At her current rate, she wouldn't finish for hours.

As she flipped to the next page, a figure entered her tiny bedroom and stood beside the foot of her bed. He was clad in expertly crafted armor, though of a more formal kind than what one might desire to wear in battle. His golden hair fell past his shoulders, and his brow was adorned by a slender crown, filled with sparkling gems. He practically shone with beauty, nobility, and righteousness, all of which were enhanced as a soft smile graced his face. Estel didn't even look up.

"Not now, Finrod," she said, still keeping her eyes focused on her book. "I absolutely must stay concentrated on my homework; no more muse interruptions."

"I come bearing gifts," he told her in his strong yet gentle voice, a more friendly grin replacing his formal smile.

"Felagund, if you dare to give me another story idea while writing is the last thing I can do…" Thalion trailed off with a groan, finally facing her companion. As always, she was momentarily stunned by his glorious appearance, never able to completely get used to him. But since he had been the most constant visitor from among her muses since her move to college, the shock was short lived. She did, however, give him a weary smile in return. "I would love nothing more than to write, but I am completely unable right now."

"Who said anything about writing or stories?" the elf asked, taking a step closer to Estel's chair and unslinging a small shoulder strap she hadn't noticed. Attached to the leather strap was a small bag with a bottle neck peeking out. Thalion raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What is that?" she asked as Finrod pulled the bottle, which appeared to contain a dark red drink, into the open. "You know I'm not yet twenty-one, right?"

The elven lord laughed, a very merry sound which caused Estel to join, even though she wasn't quite sure why. Finrod shook his head and yanked the cork off the top, holding the drink up as if to display a trophy. "Don't worry; this breaks none of your mortal laws."

"Very well, but that doesn't answer my first question: what _is_ it?" Thalion pressed. "I really need to keep reading, not entertain any other distractions…"

"I know; that's why I brought this," Finrod revealed, taking the nearest of many Texas Rangers cups from Estel's cluttered desk and beginning to fill it with the red liquid. "This drink is of elven-make. The Vanyar have perfected it over the ages; it's designed to give peace and clarity to the mind, aiding one in focusing on their task." His grin widened into a large smile, and he gave a small chuckle. "We muses single-handedly 'drive the market', as you might say. This drink is often given as a great help to writers so that they can complete their stories quickly and efficiently. But it should work for any task, reading included."

Estel took the cup in her hand, still slightly suspicious of her muse's true intentions. But while she gazed at the swirling crimson liquid, she suddenly desire it very much. She gave the elf a nod of thanks, lifted the cup to her lips, and let the cool drink pour into her mouth. It was strong and sweet, not like anything she had ever tasted before and impossible to describe. Immediately she felt its effect, as if a tiny bit of energy had seeped all throughout her body and sharpened her thoughts.

"Very good," she said to the elf, taking another swallow. "I hope this will help me knock out my homework once and for—"

Everything happened so fast that Thalion could hardly process what was going on. Just before she had finished her thought, her mind was dominated by a vision, playing before her as clear as day. She desperately tried to shut it out, to not watch it, but it was too late. After several minutes, the vision passed, and her attention returned to the room where Finrod was laughing hard by her side.

The writer had just experienced a story-genesis insider her head, one more clear and precise than any she had yet seen. And she knew somehow that the elf was responsible.

"You treacherous Noldo!" she yelled, trying not to find the situation funny but failing as a forbidden grin tugged at her mouth. "So much for being a friend of men!"

Finrod straightened up and let his laughter die down. "I didn't lie," he defended. "I just failed to mention the side-effects."

Estel shamelessly face-palmed. "And what are these side-effects?"

Finrod shrugged. "Those with over-active imaginations often experience the same focus to their mind's fantasies as the drink provides to other tasks. But the drink really will help your reading; I promise."

"How in the world can it do homework if I now have an idea festering inside my head?" she shouted, still exasperated.

"Just try reading," he told her, pointing back to the book in her lap. "You will do it with ease, I assure you. Once you begin again, all other thoughts will fall away until the duty is complete. And then the idea will be waiting for you when—"

"When nothing, Finrod," Thalion interrupted. "Haven't you noticed that when I'm not studying, it's because hunger or exhaustion have demanded a small reprieve? Just when do you think I will find time to write this idea?"

Finrod grinned yet again, though this time it actually made Estel a bit irritated. "You won't find the time, I wager; rather, you will _make_ it."

After those fairly cruel words, Finrod gave a sigh and returned to his normal, kinder self, putting a hand on Estel's shoulder and grasping it firmly. "Study hard," he said quietly before turning and heading for the door.

"Wait, Finrod," Thalion protested just as her muse was about to depart.

"What?" the elf asked, stopping and facing the room again. "I thought distractions were unwelcome?"

"I just wanted to ask you something," Estel ventured cautiously. "That vision, or whatever it was—it wasn't about a story with you in it."

"Correct," answered Finrod. "It was your own fantasies; I didn't implant it."

"Then why would you give me the drink in the first place?" gasped the poor writer. "Do you muses really take so much pleasure in pestering others?"

Finrod chuckled, and Thalion noted that he didn't deny her claim. "Muses know about their writer's minds," he said at last. "Let's just say I got a request from a friend who was hoping for a certain story. Hopefully he'll get it now; both you and he will be happy."

"Who?" Estel inquired, but too late. Finrod had already gone through the doorway and into the hallway. But before he disappeared from sight, she saw that he gained a companion as he walked away, one dressed on a blue uniform with a number one printed big and white on the back. The pair shared a joyous high-five as they vanished, and Thalion actually let herself laugh aloud as she shook her head and reopened her book.

She should have known. Andrus was always up to something.

Muses originating from creation rather than a sub-creation were no less demanding than their fictitious companions, but as of yet, none had not gained the confidence and trust in Estel to ask her favors directly. Thalion decided this was a good thing; it probably deterred story demands, but most of all, it meant her heroes from "real life" got to make friends with her other muses in…wherever her muses….existed.

She really needed to figure out how all this stuff worked; reality and not-reality weren't as simple as they were supposed to be. However, that entertaining philosophical inquiry would have to wait until her homework was done, her newly developed story idea was written, and all her other duties had been completed.

But at least when she started reading again, it actually seemed easy to focus.

 **. . .**

 **I hope you found this tale relatable, if not the most hilarious thing you've ever read. It seems that I can't do an hour's homework without my muses interrupting me, and as I said earlier, this occasion of Finrod's "helpful" disruption sparked the flame of a totally unrelated story which will be posted shortly. If you'd like to know what it was that both Andrus and I wanted so badly to have written, be on the look-out for that story, entitled "A True Leader of Men". It's a stand-alone LotR fic, which I'm pretty pleased with.**

 **Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to leave me some feedback!**


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